Strange Days
by Min Daae
Summary: I have the strangest dreams sometimes, Rory said, apropos of almost nothing. The absolute strangest.


I have the strangest dreams sometimes, Rory said, apropos of almost nothing. The absolute strangest.

Well, no wonder, Amy said. All things considered. We've lived dreams. Literally, once, remember? But Rory frowned, shook his head.

No, he said, not like that. Not those kinds of dreams, not TARDIS dreams. Sometimes it's like…do you ever feel like you're remembering something that hasn't happened yet? That's what it's like. Or like I've forgotten something and it's right on the tip of my tongue but I can't quite find it. Only…only that's not right either. He looked frustrated, shook his head. I don't know how to explain it.

I do, Amy said solemnly. Rory glanced sidelong at her, hopeful.

You do?

Yeah, she said, and gave him a quick smile. You're weird.

~.~

Sometimes he thought it was about having died so many times. Like a glitch in a computer, or maybe like when you shut down a computer by pushing the button and when it rebooted you got those dire warning messages about how _the computer had not shut down properly. _

People said that, that all humans were really was a bunch of electrical signals. It was hard to think that way, sometimes, now, hard to think logically when the world kept proving that logic didn't work the way you thought it was supposed to.

But that was life with Amy, with the Doctor.

You broke or you adjusted. When he was honest, Rory wasn't quite sure which he'd done. Maybe a little of both.

~.~

He first saw him during one of those periods of time when they'd been home for a while, almost settling into normal life, paying bills, days in the right order, no sudden unexpected vacations. One of the times when Rory thought he could get used to this, maybe.

He was out doing some shopping, trying to find a suitable birthday present for Amy (what do you get the girl who has souvenirs from across galaxies?) and felt himself being watched while he was looking through socks.

He turned and blinked, feeling the strangest sensation of familiarity though he was quite sure he'd never seen the lanky man in a long brown coat before. "Excuse me," he said, rather pointedly. The man started a little, like he was surprised to be caught staring, and then grinned.

"You're excused," he said brightly, and tucked his hands in the pockets of that coat. "Good day," he said politely to the young woman behind the counter, who looked faintly surprised, and headed for the door.

"Wait," Rory called, and the man turned around with a swish of his long coat. "Have we…have we ever met?"

"No," said the man, "No, I don't think so."

He was out the door with the jingling of bells, and Rory frowned after him, faintly puzzled.

~.~

"Have we ever met the Draconians?" Rory asked Amy, frowning at his plate of food. Amy looked up and made a face at him.

"What? No. Not that I remember." She paused. "Why?"

"I thought I remembered…" he shook his head. "No. It's probably nothing. Just…I thought I remembered something."

Amy gave him a decidedly odd look. "I'm the one who has the weird timeline and screwed up memories, Rory, remember? Don't go trying to steal my thunder." Under the slight tartness of her tone, though, she sounded slightly concerned. "Well, you can always ask-"

"No," said Rory, more vehemently than he meant to. "No, don't. It's fine."

There was a fob watch on a table in the hall. Rory looked at it sometimes, just stood there and stared at it until Amy prodded him in the shoulder and asked what he was doing, and could not have said why. It just felt…important, somehow. Vital in some way he couldn't quite pin down.

"Where did we get this?" he asked Amy. She shrugged.

"Where did we get anything in this house? I don't know where half of it comes from."

"Does it even work?" Rory picked it up and pressed it to his ear. He could hear something, he thought, but a moment later… "It doesn't even work. I can't hear it ticking."

Could hear something else, though, at the back of his mind, growing louder.

Rory set the watch down and rubbed his temples. "We shouldn't just keep stuff lying around when it doesn't work," he said, and it came out oddly snappish. It felt like he was getting a headache, or something; maybe the feleing like when you were trying to remember something and couldn't quite reach it.

"Someone's feeling grumpy," Amy said, and shrugged. "I don't mind if you get rid of it."

~.~

Sometimes it happened when they were traveling. He'd be standing in the TARDIS console room hanging on for dear life and suddenly the world would seem to shudder strangely, jerk and slide slightly out of place and for a moment he would feel the wild sense of groping for something he couldn't quite reach, couldn't quite…

Rory? Amy said, sounding very far away, and he thought _no that's not my name, say my name-_

(I like it when you say my name)

And then a moment later it would be gone and he was leaning on something, the Doctor going on about wherever they were now, panting like he'd run for miles. And that feeling, that feeling like he'd forgotten something.

He imagined he could feel the TARDIS shudder under his feet, as if it – she? – sensed something wrong as well, but he never asked. Never said anything.

Rory, looking a bit shaken there, the Doctor would say cheerfully, but with a faint line between his eyebrows, and Amy would answer no wonder, with the way you drive and they'd be off, gone, while Rory was still trying to settle that strange feeling of two worlds into one.

~.~

He came around again when Amy was out of the house. Rory opened the door on the third insistent knock (something about the rhythm of which itched at him) and blinked at the man from the shop, still wearing that long brown coat, still with that slightly too wide grin.

"Hello," he said. "I thought I had the right house. Williams? Rory Williams."

Rory blinked. "How did you find me?" he said, which was probably not the appropriate response.

"Looked," said the stranger. "I'm good at that. Well, finding, but looking, too, I suppose. Hello."

Rory shook his head, after a moment. "I'm not interested in buying anything."

"Good thing I'm not selling then," the man said cheerfully. "May I come in? Name's John Smith. Home inspector."

"Home…what?" Rory looked at the paper held out to him, and frowned. "It's blank."

"Is it? Must be the wrong one, then. Ah, well – yes! Home inspector. Your home needs inspecting."

"I don't think," Rory started to say, and the stranger pushed by him into the house, looking around with evident curiosity.

"Nice place! You know, I've been thinking-" he stopped, and looked at the table in the hallway. Rory looked with him, and after a moment the man began to frown. "Oh," he said, more quietly, and then looked at Rory again. "…oh."

He headed back toward the door in three long strides. "Sorry! My mistake, terribly – your home is lovely, Mr. Williams, nothing to worry about. Best be off," and then he was out and gone before Rory could call after him.

Rory looked from the table to the door, still gaping, a little. It all looked innocuous to him. The only thing there was the watch. The watch that didn't work.

He picked it up and shook it. He thought he felt a slight tingling in his palm, but a moment later it was gone. Really he should just get rid of the thing. It was useless.

Rory mentioned the visit to Amy later, and they both had a good laugh about it. Something nagged at Rory, though. Something almost within reach.

~.~

He ran into the man once more. His shift had ended late – Rory wondered if he was getting the late shifts as punishment for his unpredictable vacations – and he was walking toward the metro when he saw him, standing with his hands in the pockets of that long brown coat, staring up at the stars.

Rory stopped, inclined to keep walking and not make eye contact, but apparently he'd already been spotted. "Nice night," said – John Smith. That could not be a real name. He _knew _what it was supposed to be, he was quite sure, but…

"I suppose," Rory said, after a moment. "Bit cold. Are you sure I don't know you?"

"Quite sure," he said easily, and finally lowered his head and examined Rory with something curiously like solemnity. "Rory Williams, married to Amelia Pond. It's a good life."

Rory narrowed his eyes. "Are you stalking me? Because I'm warning you-"

"Stalking! No, oh no," the man said, at once, eyes wide and appalled. "No, I was…it's a bit silly, really. I was a friend of…a family member of yours. Distant relation. They mentioned you were in London and I…well, it was a bit of a fancy. Imagine running into you in a store, of all places!" he laughed, but there was something vaguely frantic to the sound.

Something was thudding in Rory's head, like a bad hangover, but in a peculiar rhythm. Four beats. Four. "You might have said so," Rory muttered. "Who…"

"Geordie, I think it was. Or Georgie? Or maybe George, I'm almost positive…oh, it's been a while. Any rate. Glad you're doing well." His grin was quick and a little peculiar. "Must be off, though."

Something was very odd about all of this. And he was so very close, Rory felt sure, so very _close _to knowing, understanding what was going on, what all of this was, how it fit together…

"Wait," he said, as the man started to move away. "Are you – are you sure we've never met? I just have the oddest feeling…"

"No," said the man, and his voice was suddenly harsh. Rory blinked. "No," he said again, more quietly. "We've never met. And I think it's…I think it's best it stay that way." He took a step back. "Sorry. Live a good life, Rory Williams. A good life."

Rory gaped after him, but watched him go.

What was he supposed to think?

~.~

Rory lay awake and turned over and over until Amy kicked him and told him if he didn't stop he could sleep on the bathroom floor. Something, there was something nagging at him. So close.

He fell asleep eventually, and dreamed the strangest dreams. Dark and horrible things. The man in the long brown coat slid in and out of them like a ghost, appearing and disappearing, winding in and out, and sometimes he was there but not him, a different face but the same man, somehow, he knew, was sure of it. He remembered – _remembered –_

Jerking awake, he stared up at the ceiling in the dark.

_What's wrong with you, _he thought.

You could ask the Doctor, the whisper at the back of his mind, and he felt a confusing well of rage, powerful fury, _no. No. _

He rolled over and breathed in the smell of Amy's hair, but that didn't soothe him. He closed his eyes and listened to their hearts beating opposite time. His-hers-his-hers. One-two-three-four.

God, his _head._

_~.~  
_

The rhythm of four. The heartbeat of – of – _you're making this all up, Rory. It's nothing. Just a little crossed wiring from all the times you've died. That's all._

He sat in the living room, staring straight ahead at nothing.

Draconians. The end of the universe. _Decimate. Nice word, decimate. _

That nagging sense that he'd forgotten something terribly important.

Rory got up and went into the hallway, found the fob watch where he'd left it, never quite getting around to getting rid of it. He'd think about it, consider it for a while, and then put it back. He held it up to his ear and listened, trying to hear the ticking of a clock, but could only hear his own heartbeat. His own…

No, he thought, with sudden certainty. Not his.

He found the catch on the watch. It was here. Whatever this strangeness in his life was, the answers were here. In this fob watch that didn't work.

Rory hesitated only a moment longer, and then clicked it open.


End file.
